


His Coat

by RiceGrainsAndRoses



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock's Coat, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiceGrainsAndRoses/pseuds/RiceGrainsAndRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a surprisingly nice gesture from Sherlock, you meet a man who all thought were dead...But can ghosts make people feel this good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Coat

You stood shocked outside the big blue door of 221B Baker St. , passer-by starting to gawk. You had just spent the afternoon with Sherlock, and after having a very nice day you had decided to go home. John and Mary had sort of recruited you to spend time with the consulting detective, much to your and Sherlock’s annoyance. You had come to London to study art and literature, and over the course of the 6 months that you had been there, you had become friends with the three of them. One night while dining with the Watson’s , Mary had brought up the idea of introducing you to Sherlock. John had given her an odd look but then smiled and agreed. They said that the two of you had a lot in common. Well, that was true, but sometimes having a lot in common can be a bad thing.

Thankfully after many tries at getting the two of you to talk, you had finally formed some kind of friendship. Although at times you could be just as cold and calculating as Sherlock, at your heart you were a sweet, nerdy girl. This, is why John and Mary thought you would be good for him. And you were. He allowed you to watch movies with him, and sometimes even help with cases. But mostly he talked and you listened, which you found calming in a way. You loved to hear him carry on about this or that, even all those types of tobacco ash. And it did him good to have someone to listen to him, now that John wasn’t his live-in anymore.

When you had come over today it had been nice and warm, but as you left Sherlock’s flat you shivered, the night air now cold. As Sherlock stepped outside with you he took one look at your short-sleeved shirt and sighed heavily before going back upstairs. When he came back he was holding his coat. With a small smile, he pulled it over your shoulders and stepped back inside. With a quiet “Good night..” , he closed the door in your face.

Sherlock gave you his coat.

The coat.

Too stunned to do anything else, you began to shuffle home, mouth still agape and eyes wide. After a while you managed to pull your arms through the sleeves, the heavy weight of the fabric pulling on your shoulders. The coat was warm and still smelled like him, and you sighed happily as you wrapped it tighter around yourself. This had been a perfect turn of events. As you rounded a corner, you stepped onto a darkened street and you stopped in your tracks. This couldn’t be right, could it? You had walked home at night before and all the streets along your usual route had been well lit..Could it be that the street light was out? One quick look at your surroundings totally disproved that theory. You were lost. You had taken a wrong turn somewhere. You had been so distracted by Sherlock that you had forgotten about everything else.

With nerves running high, you turned to walk back the way you had came, only to come face to face with a man. You gasped and stumbled backward before falling on your behind. With a chuckle the man crouched down to your level, his smile all too bright, even in the shadows. You squinted at him in the darkness, and the longer you looked, you could have sworn you had seen him somewhere before.

“Who are you..? , you nearly whispered.

“My my..You’re positively quivering, aren’t you?”, he asked softly, ignoring you completely as he reached out a pale hand to stroke your cheek. You shut your eyes tight and pulled away from him, rejecting his touch. You could practically feel the glare that he was giving you now, and you cracked an eye open to see, only to nearly have a heart attack. This time, he was centimeters from your face, his breath ghosting across your lips. His large brown eyes could easily fool people into thinking him innocent, but you could see the predator in him. From behind him somewhere came the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later a large man appeared behind him.

“What do you need, sir?” , a rough voice asked. The man before you smiled and turned to him, a look on his face that made your skin crawl.

“I’d like for you to take Miss ____ to the car. I’ll decide where we’ll go from there.” , his Irish accent dancing along the wind. The man merely nodded and descended on you, ripping you out from under the pale man, and hoisting you over his shoulders. You screamed and kicked, but it was to no avail. They had you and you weren’t getting away. After a moment you stopped and just laid there limply, like a dead flower. This earned you a look from the well-dressed man following along behind you.

“Oh, what? Are you just giving up? Just like that? I have to say I’m a little disappointed..The struggle is the most fun..” , he grinned. Suddenly, a car door was opened and, with a grunt from the large man, you were tossed inside. Before you could get your bearings, the shorter man climbed into the car after you, and backed you up against the other door, which was now locked. “But you know..” , he whispered, “..the surrender can be fun too..” You swallowed hard and put your hands to his chest in an attempt to shove him away weakly. He didn’t move.

“…Who are you?” , you repeated, voice shaking with fear. He pulled away to look you in the eyes, and his grin seemed to grow wider as he said the words : “Jim Moriarty…Hiii..” Just like that, the fear in you turned white hot and shot across your body as your brain tried to comprehend that last sentence. Without waiting for a reply he lunged forward and caught your bottom lip between his teeth, a growl rumbling from his chest as your wide eyes just watched him.

Jim Moriarty, was dead.

He was supposed to be dead.

He blew his fucking brains out on St. Bart’s roof, and yet here he was, sucking your lip into his mouth, his hands coming up to grip the collar of Sherlock’s coat as he pulled you closer. Your breath hitched as he broke away just to capture your mouth once more, and this time he kissed you, really kissed you. His tongue prodded at your lips, asking for entry, and without really knowing why, you obliged. With a soft groan he tangled his hands in your hair as his tongue worked its way over every bit of your mouth, tasting you fully.

The sound of lips coming together and sliding wetly lasted for what seemed forever before he stopped and straightened his spine, his gaze sliding over you before stopping on the coat. He narrowed his eyes then, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

“…That’s Sherlock Holmes’s coat..What are you doing with it?” , he demanded. You were still dazed from all the kissing but you managed to work out an answer.

“H-He gave it to me..Because it was cold..and I didn’t have a jacket…” , you said, previous fear making it’s comeback. Moriarty made a sound of annoyance before sitting down, away from you. It was awhile before he talked to you again.

“..You know, I’ve been watching you for a while, and you’re still very hard to read…Who are you trying to be?” , he asked rudely. “ I mean, some days I think that you look up to him, like he’s some kind of teacher..Others I think that you almost have feelings for the man..” You looked down at the floorboards, embarrassed. “…And now you’re wearing his coat. I don’t really like that..But..” He paused long enough to bring your attention back to him. “…There is something about it that I find rather…enticing..”

He scooted across the seat and then climbed onto your lap, now straddling you. He smiled and pushed a hair behind your ear before pulling the collar of the coat back far enough to kiss down your throat. You moaned and gripped onto his thighs, suddenly loving his weight on you. He was warm, so warm that he seemed to radiate heat. It only took a minute or so before you were both sweating and panting and writhing in the back seat. Gasping, you pushed his jacket off his shoulders and threw it across the seat, earning a pleased growl from deep in his chest. Running your hands down his stomach, nails scraping slightly through the fabric of his dress shirt, your shaking hands came to rest on the belt of his pants. The cool, heavy feel of the leather was oddly arousing and you sighed as you ran your fingers over it, occasionally brushing them farther down. Moriarty was now pushing against you impatiently, his eyes blown black as he loomed over you.

“God…Quit being such a fucking tease..” , he hissed before guiding your fingers to his zipper. With a cheeky grin, you slid the zipper down slowly and, while staring into his eyes, popped open the button. At this point, he was straining against the fabric, hard and wanting, and by the time his slacks were open, he wasted no time in getting to business. He pulled his member free, and it was perfect. It was thick and just the right length and as he gave it a few quick strokes, a bead of precum dripped down and onto Sherlock’s coat, staining it.

“Jesus Christ..” , you breathed before he leaned forward and captured your lips once more. He was rutting against you now, his whole body shaking as if he were about to explode. Your skin was on fire, eyes rolling back in your head as his hands felt you through your clothes. Two strong fingers came down between your legs and pushed into you through your tight jeans, your moan getting lost in his mouth. Just as you started to buck into him, he pulled his hand away (much to your disapproval) and began to focus on your shirt. You were wearing an old t-shirt under Sherlock’s coat and Moriarty pulled a switch-blade from his back pocket before cutting the shirt in two. He tossed the knife across the seats carelessly and descended on your breasts, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth. His fingertips left bruises along your sides as he bit and licked at the pink nubs, torturing them and killing you with want slowly. Your panties were nearly soaked through at this point, unable to do anything but whimper and squirm under his touch. Something about the whole situation, the fact that you didn’t even know this man other than that he was incredibly dangerous, sent a thrill through you. He chose you. Out of all the women he could have picked, he chose you. This man who was tearing at your clothes to get closer to you, this man with eyes like milk chocolate and a voice that could charm a drunkard from his bottle, a junkie from their fix. The very thought of him nearly killed you on the spot.

You didn’t have long to revel in these thoughts before he climbed off of you to unbutton your jeans and drag them and your little black panties off your legs, leaving you bare under Sherlock’s coat. He just sat there a moment, taking in your legs and your curves, every inch of your flesh.

“Look at you…” , he nearly whispered before crawling towards you on the seat. “Look at how wet you are for me…Soaked..Bet you can’t wait to have my hard cock inside you..Can’t wait to feel me fuck you..Slamming in and out of you fast and hard, balls slapping your ass..You want that don’t you? I bet you want me to fuck you in that coat of his too..” , he purred, his body now caging yours in in the cramped back seat. You whimpered and pulled his body onto yours, bringing his lips down to you, kissing him as hard and as sweet as you possibly could. This time, he whimpered and , without warning, slid into you slowly until he bottomed out. You gasped and arched into him, taking him deeper. He pulled out and then slammed into you again with a loud grunt. He went slowly for a while, savoring your wet heat as you clenched around him, but soon it was almost too much.

Suddenly he was pulling out and turning you over on all fours, your face nearly pressed against the window as he took you from behind. Pushing the coat up your back so he could watch himself slide in and out of you, he gripped your hips and pumped into you, whispering the most deliciously awful things.

“..Bet Sherlock could never make you feel like this..Do you think about him when you touch yourself? Do you think about him as you’re getting off…Well, from now on, the only name.. ahh..leaving your lips when you come..oh..will be mine. You. Are. Mine.”

He moaned as he fucked you so hard that you couldn’t even speak, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the silences in between. Soon you were coming and coming hard, clenching around his cock, hips twitching, his name leaving your lips like a broken prayer. With the most filthy noise you had ever heard, Moriarty came inside you, pulling you flush against his chest as he did so, his mouth hot at your ear as he whispered your name. He rode out the waves of pleasure as he rolled his hips into you, his hand gripping your throat tight, his other hand coming down to rub at your clit. All these ministrations pulled yet another orgasm from you and you cried out, gripping onto his hips behind you as you crashed and burned. He groaned, now oversensitive as he helped you through the climax, and didn’t pull out until you went silent.

He tucked himself away and managed to dress you before falling back sleepily onto the seat, pulling you with him.

“…Sebastian…Home..” , he ordered, his voice tired and heavy. It was at that moment that you realized that the man’s bodyguard or whoever he was, had been sitting in the front seat the entire time. You blushed and hid your face in Moriarty’s chest, his chuckle at your reaction rumbling up from his stomach. “Oh, it’s fine dear..Sebastian’s seen me do more than that. If anything, he probably admired your body a great deal. Isn’t that right Sebastian?” , he called. There was a chuckle from the front seat as the car roared to life and sped down the road.

“Of course, sir. That’s a right proper beauty you’ve got there.” , he complimented. Oddly enough it worked, and as your eyes met Moriarty’s you nearly melted.

“I know.” , he murmured before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep beneath you. With a smile, you dozed off, not entirely sure what was going to happen next, but slightly optimistic.

A few days later, you went to visit Sherlock, still wearing his coat. As soon as you entered his flat, his head snapped in your direction as he sniffed the air.

“Why does my coat smell like sex?”


End file.
